Leanan Sidhe
by Autumn L
Summary: A vengeful spirit helps to turn the tide of battle. Brief romance. Non slash.


**Leanan Sidhe**

_Author's Note: Halloween-inspired fic playing off an archetype ghost story. I am cobbling together TF continuity here! This is set in a future AU TFBlogsverse where I borrowed some elements of Japanese Headmasters. Soundblast is named so because I can't say Soundblaster (aka Soundwave 2.0 from J. Headmasters) without it messing with my head even though I know very well that Blaster's Japanese name is Broadcast. Here he isn't intended to sound exactly like Soundwave anymore._

The trench was cold in the dim illumination from buildings eastward of the battlefield, making steam from a mechanoid's vents visible. The fighters were scattered here and there, some in groups, others just standing alone. Hisstronic was one such mech although he was talking animatedly as though everyone nearby was listening to him. There was some vague interest from a pair of snipers to his right who were cleaning rifles, but they didn't offer any real replies aside from grunts. Soundblast was to his left, the ebony tape deck standing with his arms folded and his masked face lowered, optic band dim. He wasn't particularly interested in what the dull green mech was babbling about yet he couldn't help but take it in.

"They say she still walks the field on very cold nights, singing in mourning and carrying the cranial unit of her dead lover!"

That was it for the snipers; they burst out laughing.

"It's true!" Hisstronic flailed his arms. "I know someone who saw her! The Silver Seductress does exist!"

Soundblast knew this tale was nothing but fiction. After all, his head had been salvaged from his wreckage to reconstruct him as he was now.

"Perhaps the most frightening thing is that although you heard her singing and you recorded it, it plays back blank!"

The snipers made mock-spooky noises then laughed again. Soundblast sighed audibly and clicked his speakers on.

The sound of a beautiful female voice singing in a foreign tongue filled the air.

Hisstronic leapt up about three feet. "That's her! That's her! Ohmy--" He hopped up onto the ladder to peer above the trench wall. The two snipers looked doubtful but joined him. Seeing nothing, they glanced around the trench. Plainly within view Soundblast tapped his stop button. The singing halted. The two nudged each other and laughed. Hisstronic came back down the ladder. "What? What are you--" He glanced from the snipers to Soundblast. "But how? That _is_ her! That's exactly what they say she sounds like!"

Soundblast folded his arms again. "If no one can record her, how does anyone know?"

"B-But it _is!"_ Hisstronic looked so desperate that the communications officer began to wonder about his sanity. _"Who_ is it, then??"

Soundblast drew himself up to his full height and looked down imperiously from behind his yellow visor. "You cannot record such exquisite sound on any old inferior equipment."

_"You've_ seen her?!" the other mech squeaked, optics wide.

"... Of course not. It is a false legend made up by some desperate mech."

Hisstronic's face fell.

# # #

Later on in the shift Soundblast found himself in an empty section of the trench that was farther away from his post than he probably should have been, but it mattered not. The comm traffic he was constantly filtering carried word of stalemates and paltry deals. No one was winning this battle. He glanced up at the sky but it was too clouded over by residual smoke. He continued through the trench, enjoying the lack of others and the relative quiet. He turned a corner and saw he had reached the end. He debated going back but instead walked up to the ladder leading out. Without hesitating he climbed up onto the field. All was still and motionless here with nary a distinguishing feature on the landscape. He nodded to himself and walked away from the trench. He was still within receiving range of his post. No one would miss him.

He switched on his playback reel, locating a particular spot. It was that same female singer but further along in the aria. Those fools had no idea what this truly was. None of them had ever been to Earth. He walked slowly, tuning out all other comm noise in order to lose himself in the recording.

As the aria reached a crescendo he had the impression of a boost in the surround-sound, which was unusual because he couldn't create that effect on his own. He brought himself back into the moment and saw someone moving purposely toward him. The form was pale-colored and was the source of this additional, matching singing.

The high note was met and held, fading off into the silence as he stopped the recording. No other sound intruded. He looked at her face then down to her hands, clasped before her waist. No spare cranial unit was being carried.

"You are dead. Why are you here?" His voice came out calm over the space between them. "Yes, the battle wages on. The ones who killed you still try to lay claim to this planet. But what am _I_ to do about it?" He thought she was looking at him. It was difficult to tell from her white-blind optics. "Will you only sing?" He stepped closer, raising one hand and reaching toward her face. Although it didn't seem like it should be possible he did make physical contact. He knew it was an illusion of some kind. There could be nothing solid beneath that form. His other hand came up of its own accord and he cupped her face between them, gazing into those empty optics. Although her expression remained blank he felt her arms come up around him, hands sliding along his sides to his back. He shivered, longing coursing through his relays. But this was an illusion and there was no point in falling further into it. He shuttered his optics and leaned his head forward until their helms touched. Deceptively solid. "Why are you here?" he repeated in a whisper. "Your time is over. This is...unnecessary."

Humming arose from in front of him and he shuddered, wanting to know what had brought her out here -- brought her back, if that was to be believed. Sparks did not just leave the Allspark after rejoining it. Unlike him, it had been too late to draw her back. Or so they had said. He had his own suspicion that the circumstances of her death had prevented it. He looked again at the sky. The waiting menace above was still veiled. Behind his battle mask his lips curled back in a hateful sneer.

The humming abruptly cut off and the presence he hadn't even known he felt disappeared while a hollow opened up within him that he hadn't even realized had been filled. He slumped where he stood, feeling disappointed that the memory of her still affected him. Then a musical shriek rent the air and he turned by instinct to see something large and dark red and yellow coming at him. He threw himself to the side, landing and rolling. He came up with his gun in hand, shoulder canon swiveling to find an auto-lock. He set his scanner running, the readouts scrolling by on his visor. Someone tall and _quick._ He caught a glimpse of a cockpit hatch on a long leg. His fuel lines ran cold. It could be _that one._ The one who had been turned, who had betrayed them all to the threat that hung over the planet now. Whole units had been sent against him and had fallen. He stood no chance alone.

But he wouldn't go without a fight. He began to broadcast a disruptive frequency and fired repeatedly into the night. There was no target but it helped with illumination, or rather determining where his foe _wasn't._

His fuel pump pounding away, he turned sharply, scanning for any hint of noise. _Betrayed again. Why did I wander? Why did I let the apparition lead me away? If she is returned, she would not be so malicious as to lead me to this fate._

A burst of fire came at him from the right. He dodged left. Another burst from that direction. He blocked his face with his arm, crying out as the super-heated flame melted his armor. This one was not pulling punches. He staggered in what he hoped was a safe direction, and it did prove welcoming as a gust of chill air washed over him. It was not cold enough to affect the liquid metal dripping off his arm, only soothe it like a...a gentle touch. Before him the mist in the air coalesced into her form. Beyond her loomed the traitor, smirking. Did he see her? Recognize her? Was he going to gloat then finish off his original quarry? Soundblast clutched his arm, watching. Due to the circumstances he wondered if he could dismiss the whole thing as a fever dream.

Then the traitor rushed forward, twin jets of flame spewing forth from his arm cannons. He passed through her, or she passed through him, and suddenly the streams of fire were extinguished. The traitor made a choked noise and grasped at his chest. A funnel of mist swirled around him, pulling tiny streams of energy from him. His optics flickered a bright violet only to dim as the whirlwind continued on.

Soundblast backed away, not entirely understanding what was occurring here. He cradled his arm and looked for the best route back to the trench. He would have to find some excuse for the damage to his arm, if _that_ was even real. He heard a sharp _crack_ and looked toward the strange conflict. Ice had formed all over the traitor and his color was rapidly fading. He was tipping forward even now. In another moment he collided with the ground, frozen panels shattering. Most of it broke into jagged pieces. His head remained intact as it came tumbling away.

Aghast, Soundblast sank to the ground. Just like that, one of their worse adversaries was defeated? Was this truly some strange vision giving a clue how to defeat him? He could think of no other explanation. He shivered from the lingering cold and considered how it could be applied for real.

The mist closed around him before gathering to his left, once more taking her form. Something was different but he refrained from moving. It was she who reached for his battle mask. _"Channel..."_ She lowered the mask, beginning to hum. He joined the melody as their lips met, releasing his wounded arm. It didn't seem to hurt as much anymore. Once again he felt solid weight where there should be none as she shifted against him.

# # #

He awoke inside the trench, light pouring down the east wall. It was constant, not the orange light of explosions.

A sunrise.

Now he knew it had all been a dream -- seeing as it was still going on. The sun could not rise when it was blocked. He remembered the attack and patted his arm, wincing. Still melted. The pain did make it a rather vivid dream.

With the ache returning to his arm now that he had invoked it by remembering, he scooted carefully to the near wall and leaned against it, running a diagnostic for the heck of it. In a dream it wouldn't matter what the results were. Naturally it came back complaining about the arm. The sensors in that section of armor were either toasted or fused. A minor annoyance so long as he could still move it. The only other thing that came up was a record of an automatic recalibration and a full charge on his energy reserves.

His comm crackled, distracting him from wondering about either. "Soundblast. Your position?"

It was Ultra Magnus. He must have gotten into some bad energon before he had fallen into recharge. "Zone four-eighty-two. Last rail."

"How did you get all the way out there?"

"I walked, sir."

There was a pause in which he could picture Magnus blinking. "Thank you for being candid. Please report to HQ at your leisure."

"At my..._leisure?_ Is this a general recall with no mission order for today?"

Magnus' voice held concern. "Did you get knocked offline, soldier?"

"I thought I still was in recharge, sir."

"Check your vital signals again. You're as awake as I am and this war is over."

He blinked. "Say again, sir?"

"We won. The Unicronians have been driven off."

"Wh-What?" The stammer slipped out. "How?"

"That deranged firethrower was finally brought down. We don't know how or when but it was obvious in the enemy's morale."

Soundblast stared at his ruined arm then looked toward the ladder. He hauled himself up and scaled it, peering over the edge. Twenty feet away were the gray remains of the triple-changer. He climbed the rest of the way up and went over, taking numerous visual recordings and cautiously sifting through everything. There was a fine layer of frost on the larger pieces. He realized there was no sign of the cranial unit...

"Soundblast?"

"I...think I have the answer, however I...can't expect you to believe it."

"I don't mind anything about now."

"I will need a recovery team to my location. I also need some medical attention for myself. You see, I had a run-in with Fahrenheight..."

End

* * *

(c) 2006 Autumn L. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, Soundblast(er), Ultra Magnus, Unicron belong to Hasbro and Takara. Hisstronic, Channel, and Fahrenheight belongs to the author. 


End file.
